Monday, June 28, 2010

Writing lovin contest!!!!

Here's some 500 follower love!!! A contest! I would never let you down and I figured rather than a friday to start the contest we'd do Monday!!!

Todays book... The Truth Tellers Tale by Sharon Shinn!!!

So without further ado... The Write Source has some super cute writing exercises and I will give you the sentence and you create a fun story... it doesn't have to be long, just creative! I'll have a few judges behind the scenes to pick the favorites and I'll notify you of the win via email (so be sure to leave your email as well!!)

TODAY'S EXERCISE:

I couldn’t believe that my mother volunteered me for that job.

(I'll join in for fun! So here is mine!)

"You want me to what?" I asked

"Go around and pick off the gum from underneath the tables"

She smiled and handed me a white bucket, she didn't wait for me to reply, instead shot off to the kitchen to prepare lunch for all the middle schoolers. What a nightmare, my mother set me up again. She was still upset at the last job I quit, but I couldn't help that the jobs all sucked. Nothing compared to this. She had told me it was either this or worse, I was beginning to regret my decision, her just saying worse terrified me but now knowing I had to pick gum from underneath all these tables, what could possibly be worse?

So there is mine!!! I decided that it was pretty gross and kind of funny too so I hope to have sparked some fun ideas for all of you!!! I really hope you enter!!! The winner will be chosen on Friday! So to enter you want to do the writing exercise, give a little blog shout out or sidebar and leave your email!!!

I couldn’t believe that my mother volunteered me for that job. It meant all summer long having to watch those brats, those little jerks in training, the naughtiest, messiest, sneakiest kids...namely, my siblings.

I begged, oh, I pleaded, but my cries went unheeded. She told me how she had to take that college class, and the only time she could was daytime, because she was working at night. Luckily my dad would be home by seven, and I would be free until the next morning.

"Why couldn't you have hired a babysitter?" I asked the first morning, as she was putting powder on her face.

"Emilie, you know we can't afford that." She added a dab of rouge and rubbed it in until her cheeks were marvelously pink, as if she had flushed in the perfect areas.

"Why not? You're going to college for pete's sake!" I threw my hands in the air to add emphasis.

She sighed and picked up her mascara brush, adding makeup till her eyes were delightfully smokey. "And it's practically taking all of our money as it is." She smiled at me and swirled some red over her lips until they were seductively glossy.

It was then that it occurred to me that maybe college wasn't on the plan.

“Not so good…” he took out his blue cap and scratched the top of his bald head.

“What’s up? Is there something I can do?”

My mom HAD to be the good neighbour. She just had to. Unbelievable.

Mr. Brown looked to his garden. Bobby, his son, washed the flowers as he listened to his black iPod, dressing his black Metallica T-Shirt and his black Jeans. Did I forget to mention the black sneakers?

“Bobby is having some trouble with English at school.” Bobby didn’t turn, he obviously couldn’t listen. I mean, honestly, even I could hear “Nothing Else Matters” playing on his list.

Ever since we were children, Bobby was an outcast. As the years passed, it only got worse, ‘till the point where he became a ghost, practically. We were neighbours, but that was the only thing we had in common. See, I am the cheerleading superstar of Fineas High. That’s right, I am every bitch of every teen movie ever filmed. People love and fear me, and I’m so cool with that.

Bobby and I had always been opposite polarities: I am plus, he is minus.

"Well, Jane is very good at English. She would LOVE to help!"

"CRAP!" I thought. No, it was actually a succession of that: Crap.crap.crap.crap...

Why the hell did she do this to me? I couldn’t believe that my mother volunteered me for that job.

“Oh that would be just lovely. And we can certainly pay you for your time, young lady.”

I try to grin but only half a sneer comes out.

Bobby glances quickly at me. I stare back at him, and suddenly, I’m under the impression he heard it all. He flashes a shy smile and keeps looking at me, right in the eye!

How many guys did that to me? None. How dare he? What was that? I felt something…no I heard something. Yes, it’s my heart. It bumped in my ear drums, blood is rushing through my veins. What? Am I having a stroke? That has to be it. HAS TO.

I couldn't believe that my mother volunteered me for that job. After all, hadn't the Davidson family been the subject every time I sat down. If I heard one more word about their wayward son, or how horribly his mother was taking the news of his deeds, I swore I would barf.

But here I was, an old backpack on my back that I hadn't used in years. It didn't contain any more flattering clothes than those I was wearing, just some random t-shirts. I had taken greater care choosing what books to bring. I always did.

Mrs. Davidson didn't speak to me when she answered the door. Bitsy, the rat terrier I would call my own for two weeks, jumped about my ankles. At least she was excited to see me.

The closet I was led to contained two plastic bins, one of cat food, one of dog food for Bitsy. The larger one was for the cats, because Mrs. Davidson had seven of them and they all needed to be fed.

Then she shoved a key into my hand, nodded once, and stepped into the garage. I heard the ancient motor start, the creak of the garage door, and then I saw her driving down the road. Away from me. Towards her jail-bound son.

And I was alone in her house with a hyper terrier and seven cats. I sat down in the sagging recliner; it still smelled faintly of smoke even though Mr. Davidson hadn't been around for years. I pulled out the first book I touched and thought it would be a relaxing two weeks.

I can't believe my mother, I mean, who does she really think she is? I suppose her motherhood over me gives her the right to pick up crazy aunt Betty at the airport on my day off.

Which means, I have to fill up the gas tank, drive for an hour, pick up Betty and spend the next hour with her as riding on the right side of the car. Then, I have to entertain her until my parents arrive.

Days off are for relaxing and shaking away the weekly stress. Betty causes me stress and when I am stressed, I can't sleep.

I'm totally going to work this into something longer...short story or full-fledged novel.

I couldn’t believe that my mother volunteered me for that job. . I mean, I know I broke curfew, but c'mon, it's so humiliating. Hasn't anyone told her the punishment is supposed to fit the crime? It's not even a job, really. I mean I just sit there, invisible, while people talk. Well, beg, plead, and bargain is more like it. With a fair bit of cussing thrown in for good measure. I'm kinda like a priest in a confessional, only they don't know I'm there and I guarantee you no priest has to listen to the crap I do.

Worst of all, she's assigned me to the dorms down at the university. She could've sent me to a nice, quiet suburban cul-de-sac, but no, my brown-nosing sister got that cush job. I get the dorms at the biggest partying school in the country. It's Sunday morning, and these fine students are worshipping at my family's altar. That's right, I'm one of the Porcelain Gods and it's going to be a very long day judging by the pile of empties I see on the front lawn.